Lacoste Sand

This will be my last Lacoste Blog.  I know, I can’t believe it either.  The reason my blogs have been so sporadic is because these last few days I could not spend in front of a computer.  I could not.  I had to be outside on my terrace looking across the valley to the stacking squares and rectangles of Bonnieux. 

 Last night my camaraderie with the people here overwhelmed me.  A group of us were sitting at Café de Sad after dinner and it started to rain.  Everyone scooted closer to each other under the outdoor umbrella.  I watched as water bounced in and out of glasses on uncovered tables.  The rain misted the valley so that I could see was randomly placed, glowing lights from homes.  Knives and forks were cleared off of the exposed tables by a waiter who seemed not to care if he got wet.  I would imagine one wouldn’t care if they were hit with Provencal rain drops.  I may always remember sitting and talking with that last group of friends, on the second-to-last night.  My friend Carl talking to me about his dog, Broc, and another dog he was recently forced to put to sleep.  I then thought of the art installation him and Tyler did about the necessity of death, in order to appreciate life.  I thank God for those sorts of conversations I’ve had here.  I’m remembering Sagrada Familla in Barcelona, and its tall towers.  I’m remembering how holy it was, and how holy it made me feel simply by walking inside.  The United States is so close and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.  I didn’t know this Lacoste sand was going to slip through my fingers so quickly.

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